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It’s taken me this whole time to figure it out: you don’t wait until something is guaranteed before you choose it. You choose it, and then you let it become something you can trust.
I’ve been doing it ass-backward my entire life, waiting for proof before I risk anything.
But is there such a thing as enough proof?
Are there guarantees?
I don’t think guarantees exist, not when it comes to the things that matter.
So yesterday after practice I tried it your way. I walked right up to Roman Kinsey—yes, the guy you claim has a resting grumpy face—and I said, “Do you have time to grab a coffee tomorrow? I wanted to chat about this new team culture stuff you want to implement. See if I can get a better handle on it.”
And he said, “Why wait until tomorrow? Are you free now?”
Annie. Listen. I know this is low-stakes, okay? I know starting with the team captain who always has a spare second for his players was like plucking the low-hanging fruit. But it’s a start, right?
We found a little out-of-the-way coffee shop that only served two types of coffee (regular and decaf) and two types of pastries (butter croissants and almond croissants). They cater to the minimalist, I guess. Anyway, we spent some time talking about his engagement programs, and then the conversation evolved from there, and we ended up talking about music and our partners and a whole bunch of other stuff.
Two hours later, Kas Kowalski and Owen Cotton showed up to pick up Kinsey. Cotton’s brother is in town with his kid, and they all had plans to take them bowling. And I said . . . Annie, get this, I said, “Can I come?”
They didn’t even hesitate.
And Kinsey looked at me like a proud papa, which is weird, considering I’m older than him.
But bowling with the guys was perhaps the first time I truly felt like one of the guys and not like a random name on a roster.
It felt good. It felt so fucking good to feel like part of something.
I can’t wait to tell you all about this in person tonight.
Yours always,
Freddie
“I’m coming to visit.”
Nolan fastened his watch and spared a quick glance for his cell phone on the dresser in his bedroom, which he’d put on speaker when King had called. “Talk about déjà vu. You’re not three minutes away, are you?”
“Not this time,” King said. “I was thinking in the new year. Early January maybe. For a few days.”
“Sure.” Nolan was about to tell him he had to go—he was due at the Trailblazers’ holiday party shortly—when King added, “And probably again when the Trailblazers make the playoffs. How much do you think Trailblazers playoff tickets sell for?”
“I honestly haven’t thought about it.” Nolan gave himself one last look in the mirror above the dresser. Eli and his dad had both stressed that the party was business casual, so he’d gone with a pair of fitted jeans cuffed at the ankle and a red sweater over a gray collared shirt. Before King had called, Nolan had taken a selfie in the mirror and texted it to Eli.
Nolan:
Is this okay for your holiday party? Is it too casual?
Eli:
You look like a guy I want to have on my arm.
Nolan had grinned, then laughed as Eli’s next message had come through.
Eli:
You always look like a guy I want to have on my arm, even when you’re wearing joggers and a T-shirt. Or nothing. But no, it’s not too casual. You look fab.
“Probably because you have an in,” King said, drawing Nolan from his memories. “Your dad can get us tickets, right?”
